


So Stand Stricken

by dumbledores_army_reject



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, Drama, Drug Use, Friendship, M/M, Magic, Modern Era, Reincarnation, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-06-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 12:23:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1648502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dumbledores_army_reject/pseuds/dumbledores_army_reject
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a boy that Arthur finds facinating at his new school. A boy with wild blue eyes and dark demons. A boy that starts to haunt Arthur's dreams until he wakes one morning to find his dreams of knights and kingdoms are not dreams at all, but a past life.</p><p>But Merlin, broken and lost, doesn't remember. And it's left to Arthur to piece together not just their past but also their future. And most of all, he must piece together Merlin himself, and in so doing he may find Merlin meant more to him than he could ever have imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue- A Price to Pay

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and thanks for taking a look. I'm not sure exactly how long this story will take, but I'll try to keep updating regularly. And for those of you here for the Arthur on Merlin action, don't worry, it will come eventually. In spades.
> 
> Warnings: drug use, a lot of swearing, and eventual sexual content.  
>    
> Title comes from a poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
> 
> " 'There is no memory of him here!'  
> And so stand stricken, so remembering him!”  
> 
> Please leave a review.

In the stillness of the night, Merlin felt as if his heart was surely loud enough to be heard for miles. There were no other sounds. No wind stirred the trees, no night birds called to each other.  Even the Lake of Avalon was almost utterly still.  Merlin shivered, glancing over his shoulder one more time to make sure he was truly alone before turning back to the items laid before him.

It had taken weeks of combing every book that from Gaius’s rooms and the Camelot library to find the spell. It had taken years before Merlin had even begun to entertain the possibility of enacting it. Lonely years as the world began to change around him.  Merlin had started to gather the ingredients one by one, not purposefully, telling himself he was only salvaging what magical items he could find.  A handful of stones covered in runes.  Mandrake roots from the ruins of what was once Morgana’s cottage. A spiraled coin. A knife that gleamed with powerful magic.

Merlin knew it was forbidden. This was magic of the darkest kind. He could hear Gaius’s voice warning him and the dragon telling him he must wait for Arthur to return. But Merlin had not seen the dragon in an age and Gaius was long dead.  They all were.  And as the seasons had continued to change in an endless cycle by the lake of Avalon and no Arthur had appeared, Merlin had begun to think more and more of the spell. Perhaps Arthur just needed help returning.

He let out a shaky breath. It had been a warm summer night when he began setting out the items needed for the spell by the Lake of Avalon, still not letting himself thing too much about what he was doing, but as he had begun drawing the symbols in the dirt with the knife the temperature seemed to have dropped. 

Merlin finished drawing the symbol.  He placed the stones around the edge and the coin and the roots in the middle.  With one more look around, shivering at the drop in temperature and the eerie silence, he took a breath to begin the incantation.

“Merlin.”

Merlin jumped, whipping around.  Behind him stood a familiar figure, even though he had not seen her in a very long time.

“Freya,” he whispered.

She smiled at him in her soft, sad way.  She was wearing a dark hooded cloak that seemed to fade into the night around her, blurring at the edges so all that was really clear was her face.  Merlin felt a sense of foreboding.  As overjoyed as he was to see his friend, he knew Freya only appeared if there was something dire.

“Merlin you know what you are doing is forbidden.”  There was no judgment in her voice, but Merlin still shifted, chastised.  “You are playing with life and death.  Tampering with destiny.”

Merlin swallowed. “I know.  I just... It’s been so long.  I thought—he’s been gone so long.”

Freya looked at him sadly. “I understand. But there is still a price to pay.” She raised her arm and the darkness of her cloak seemed to spread, tendrils wrapping around Merlin’s legs and holding him in place.

“No!” he shouted fighting to get free.  “No, please! Freya, have mercy. I have to be here for him when he returns.  I can’t leave him!”

“I am sorry, Merlin,” Freya responded.  The darkness was obscuring Merlin’s vision now, creeping from the edges inward as he struggled. “But I have no choice. You overstepped powerful magic.”

Merlin could feel the tears running down his face in frustration and desperation as he stared at Freya’s face, the last thing he could see.  Her sad eyes regarded him pityingly over her outstretched arm.

“Perhaps,” she said softly, almost to herself.  “This is mercy in a way.” Then she clenched her hand. Pain knifed through Merlin’s head and everything went black.


	2. Enter Martin Emrys

The blaring siren coming from his mobile on his bedside table woke Arthur. He sat bolt upright, sure the house was under attack before groaning and collapsing back on his pillow.

“Morgan, I hate you so much right now.”

“Good morning to you too dear brother,” his step-sister’s voice chirped through the speaker, annoyingly chipper.

“Why on earth are you calling me so early?  It’s a Sunday.”

“Well, I figured if I was going to be dragged out of bed to go to church with Mom and her boyfriend, you might as well be woken up as well.”

Arthur huffed through his nose.  “I hate you,” he repeated.  “Even more for making my ring tone an air raid siren when ever you call.”

Morgan chuckled.  “So how was the move?”

Giving up on being allowed to go back to sleep in peace, Arthur rubbed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair.  “Exhausting, but pretty boring.”

“What’s the new house like?”

“Nothing special.  Way too big for two people and very clean and sparsely furnished.”

“Classic Uther.  What’s the company he’s working for this time?” 

“Who even knows.  Something that takes long hours, just like all the others.  All the stuff you left here is in boxes,” Arthur added.  “Dad said we could just leave them in the basement, but I moved them up into one of the spare rooms.  It’s got a bunch of windows.  Do you want me to unpack them?”

Morgan laughed.  “God, please don’t try to decorate the room for me.  That would end up god-awful.  I’ll do it the next time I visit.”  The end of her statement trailed off in a sad tone.

Arthur felt his mood drop too.  “Any idea when that’ll be?”

“No.” There was a moment of silence. “I’ve been hinting to Mom, but she just brushes it off.  I thought maybe Uther would push a little, but he hasn’t called at all. Guess checking in on his adoptive daughter takes too much time.”

Arthur clenched his jaw.  “He was been really busy with work before the move,” he offered, aware that his own bitterness that slipped into his words probably did nothing to offer comfort.

“Yeah I know,” she replied.  Then after a second, “I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

He and Morgan didn’t say anything for a while, just listened to the static from the mobile mixed with the birds chirping in the early morning sun outside.

Finally, Morgan began in a more chipper tone, “How’s the new town you’re living in?”

“Awful,” Arthur replied without missing a beat.

“Arthur! You haven’t been there for more than eighteen hours!  You haven’t even gone to school yet!  You haven’t met anyone to hate yet.”

That wasn’t strictly true.  Arthur’s mind wandered back to the day before when he had been first driving into the village in the passenger seat of his father’s fancy car. Arthur had been staring blindly out the window, when his gaze caught on a figure.  A boy, about Arthur’s own age, leaning against a street sign on a corner.  He’d been dressed in a black tee shirt, ragged, tight jeans, and an oversized grey hoodie. The boy had been checking reading something on his mobile, allowing Arthur to see only a mass of disheveled dark hair, but as the car passed the boy raised his head. 

For a moment, Arthur could have sworn their eyes locked, the boy’s eyes an electric blue, but then the boy’s gaze drifted to focus on something else down the street, bored.  He probably hadn’t even been able to see Arthur through the slightly tinted windows. Even still, Arthur hadn’t been able to stop himself from craning his neck to watch the boy as long as he was in view. But Morgan didn’t need to know that.

“It’s a small, quiet town,” Arthur answered Morgan more confidently than he felt.  I can already tell that nothing’s ever going to happen, and I’m going to be bored stupid.”

“You don’t know that.”  Arthur was surprised to hear Morgan sounding suddenly serious.  “Be open, Arthur.  Make some new, different friends.  You may be surprised.”

Arthur blinked.  Where was his snarky stepsister?  Who was this person earnestly trying to get him to meet new people?

“Anyway, you’re already stupid,” Morgan added in a more normal tone.

Rolling his eyes, Arthur smiled.  “Yeah, whatever.”

“I’ve got to go,” Morgan said.  “Remember what I told you.  Be open to stuff. Big things might happen if you are.” And with that, she hung up.

Arthur stared at the mobile for a while, bemused.  Then, after a fruitless moment of trying to go back to sleep, he shrugged and rolled out of bed with a sigh. 

 

 

Uther Penn had been working as a consultant for suffering companies for as long as Arthur could remember.  Once hired he would sweep in, fire a staggering amount of people, overhaul the company, get it back on its feet and doing well, then go on to the next one. When Arthur was little and Uther had been married to Morgan’s mom, the companies had mostly been in and around London, Uther commuting to and from.

But since the divorce, Uther had become much more mobile. He packed up his life every few years, moving about the country to the next job and dragging Arthur with him. Several of Uther’s clients were even international, requiring frequent and lengthy business trips. In fact, Arthur was pretty sure he’d seen less of his father in the entire time since he’d divorced Morgan’s mother than Arthur had in one year of his adolescence. 

On the upside, though, the frequent moves meant Arthur had the routine of a first day at a new school practically memorized.  Arthur arrived early, received his schedule from the harried looking woman in the office, and had located all his classes on the map the lady also gave him with time to spare.  Contrary to Morgan’s cryptic advice, nothing particularly interesting had happened.

Arthur had just arrived outside his first class when there was a flash of something dark in the corner of his vision.  It could have been anything, a trick of the light, someone’s black bag, really any student with dark hair, but for some reason Arthur turned anyway, his eyes trying to search out whatever it was that had caught his attention.  

Then something abruptly smashed into his back.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”

Arthur picked himself up to find a girl with coffee colored skin and curly hair and her hand clapped over her mouth. 

“I didn’t know anyone was behind the door!” she babbled.

Arthur rubbed his elbow, but couldn’t feel any other injuries. “It’s fine,” he said, waving hand and flashing his most charming smile at the girl.  My fault.  I wasn’t paying attention.”

The girl smiled shyly back.  “I’m Gwen.”

“Arthur.” Arthur shook her hand.  “I’m new here.”

Gwen laughed.  “How’s that for an awkward welcome?  We’re in the same class then I guess?”  She gestured toward the door and Arthur nodded.

“After you.”  He gestured for her to go ahead of him and Gwen smiled at him over her shoulder as she entered. Arthur followed her into the classroom, but not before casting one more quick glance around trying to find whatever had caught his eye.

 

 

It wasn’t until later, when the halls were clogged with students milling about before heading to lunch, that Arthur found it.  He and Gwen had agreed to meet so they could go to lunch together and Gwen could introduce him to some friends. The two of them were just starting off when they rounded a corner and there he was, the boy from the bus stop.

Arthur came to a full stop. In the back of his mind, he was suddenly sure that the boy was what he’d been searching for that morning.

The boy was tall, maybe a few inches taller than Arthur himself. This close they boy’s blue eyes stood out, despite a fringe of dark hair.  As did his slightly large ears and prominent cheekbones.  A pair of ear buds hung around the boy’s neck to compliment his rebelliously put together school uniform, shirt barely tucked, tie loose, and ragged black converse that were definitely not part of the school rules. The boy was laughing at something a few equally cavalier in their dress friends were saying to him, his grin huge as he teased them back.

“Do you know him?”  Gwen asked. Arthur started. He hadn’t realized he’d been staring at the boy long enough for Gwen to notice.

“No. Not at all,” Arthur shrugged it off and started walking again.  “He looked vaguely familiar but it was just in my head.”  That much was true.  He couldn’t for the life of him remember ever seeing the boy before the day Arthur had arrived, but then why did he keep being drawn to him?

“Oh, alright,” Gwen seemed a little confused but didn’t press him more. “That’s Martin Emrys.”

“Martin, huh?” repeated Arthur.  The sounds didn’t feel quite right in his mouth.  Something about them was off.

“Yeah.” Gwen pursed her lips, then went on in a rush.  “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’d be careful of him if I were you.  He used to be alright, very clever, but then he fell in with a bad crowd. They do a lot of drugs and get in trouble and stuff.  He can be kind of nasty now.”

Arthur nodded and Gwen smiled back. 

Before they went into the next hallway though, Arthur looked once more back at Martin Emrys and was surprised to find him staring back. They held each other’s gaze for a moment, then the dark haired boy raised an eyebrow in the universal signal for “you got a problem mate?”.  Arthur swallowed and returned a tight lipped smile in what he hoped was something close to the universal signal for “no problem, nice to sort of meet you”, before following Gwen away.

 

 

That night Martin Emrys’s blue eyes worked their way into Arthur’s dreams, mixed with the bright red of waving banners and the clash of metal on metal. Arthur woke drenched in sweat with only a half remember idea of his dream and creeping feeling it had meant something.


	3. Mates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, sorry I know this is a bit of a slow build. Hang with me though and I promise the next chapter is going to be A LOT more interesting.

Arthur didn’t officially meet Martin Emrys until a few days later. He was walking to class, when a few coins and a handful of lozenges clinked as they landed on the ground in front of him. A student ahead of Arthur had a hole in the bottom of his very old, very ratty bag.

“Hey,” Arthur called, picking up the items.  “You dropped something.”

The student turned.  There was an odd swooping in Arthur’s stomach as he realized it was Martin Emrys. Even from behind, he should have recognized the dark hair with large ears peaking out. 

“There’s a hole in your bag, mate,” Arthur added conversationally. “You might want to fix that.”

Martin Emrys regarded Arthur warily as the coins and lozenges were handed over.

“Do I know you?” he asked coolly.

Arthur swallowed and stuck out a hand.  “I’m Arthur”

“So I don’t know you.”  The reply was quick and definite. 

“Ah, no.” Arthur retracted his unshaken hand.

Now the other boy with starting to eye him with something bordering on shrewd hostility.  “Yet you called me mate.”

This was not at all how Arthur had pictured this going. Feeling very uncomfortable, he tried to cover by replying, “Yeah that was my mistake.”

Martin Emrys drew himself up to his full height and nodded in an assured manner. “Yes I think it was. I’m Martin, but Emrys to you since, as we’ve established, I don’t _know you_. Now kindly fuck off.”

And he turned on his converse-clad heel and strode off, leaving a lost Arthur in his wake.

 

 

That night the conversation replayed itself in Arthur’s dreams. Only this time, the roles were switched, Arthur on the hostile side and the other boy offering him a shy smile that made something deep inside Arthur ache. 

 

 

Part of Arthur’s new school routine was to make friends quickly. Through Gwen, he met Elliot, her brother, and Lance.  The boys were easygoing and athletic. Arthur quickly took to playing football with them after school and video games on weekends.  At lunch he sat with them and Gwen and a few of her girlfriends.

Gwen shared a number of classes with Arthur and the two often walked together to class.  Arthur couldn’t miss the shy, slightly flustered smile Gwen would give him sometimes, and he always returned his most charming smile in return.  She really was quite pretty and clever, and Arthur could see possibly asking her out sometime.  It had been a while since he had last dated anyone or had anything more than a one off.

Everything was ordinary, uneventful.  When Arthur told Morgan she seemed disappointed her prediction of “big things” was falling flat.

The only oddity was Martin Emrys.  He slouched around school in his not regulation uniform like a dark shadow, uncaring of anyone else around him.  No matter what he was doing, Arthur found he could never keep his eyes from being draw to Emrys.  There was some sort of magnetism to the dark haired boy for Arthur, whether he spotted Emrys was jeering at something with his friends at lunch, feet propped on up on the table, hunched in the hallway, listening to something on his headphones, or, once, behind some school buildings smoking and blowing smoke rings. Sometimes, Emrys’s gaze would flick towards Arthur, and Arthur would turn away hurriedly, face flushing as he hoped he hadn’t been caught.  But Emrys never said anything to him.

At night it was different.  Emrys laughed and talked endlessly in Arthur’s dreams, but Arthur could never quite remember what Emrys had said when he woke.  The fact that the boy appeared so often was starting to unnerve Arthur, but he put it down to Emrys’s mysterious quality and the shock of moving to a new place.  After a while, Gwen, Lance, and Elliot began to appear in his dreams too, as well as Morgana, and if the dreams were often related or seemed to always take place somewhere with a lot of armor, Arthur didn’t dwell on it.

 

 

One night he had a particularly vivid and horrible nightmare. He was running through a castle, fear dogging every step, only to haul open a door and find Gwen screaming over Elliot’s body.  Arthur woke in a cold sweat, more terrified than he would have thought for the life of a boy he’d only recently met.  _Maybe there was something in the water here_ , he though.

 

 

Uther, as always, showed little interest in Arthur’s start in their new home. They had one conversation about it a little over a week after they had arrived over dinner.

Ten minutes into the silent meal, Uther asked, “How are you getting on at school?”

Arthur stirred his potatoes with his fork.  The housekeeper Uther had hired was a better cook than the one in their last house had been.  “Fine. I’m ahead in a number of my classes.”

“Good,” Uther nodded.  “It is important that you succeed.  Nothing comes from being second best.”

“Yes, Father,” Arthur, answered automatically, stabbing another potato.

“And these boys you are spending time with?”

“They’re in my year.  We’ve been playing football after school with some of the other boys.”

Uther nodded again.  “Remember though, work and achievement comes first.  No sense being tied to those who are less than you for the sake of petty friendships.”

Nothing more was said.  Uther didn’t ask if Arthur liked his new school or missed his old one or friends, not that Arthur had expected him to.  For Uther, nothing remained of their last home.  The past was gone for him and only the future was important.

If Uther could move on, then so could Arthur.  He exchanged a few emails with some of him friends from his previous school, but didn’t feel guilty as the messages quickly became few and far between.  He’d learned from experience relationships were temporary and there was no need to linger over what was lost.  The only person he had ever really bothered to keep in contact with was Morgan.


	4. A Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for drug use.
> 
> Please review.

"So are you doing anything exciting tonight?” Morgan asked eagerly over Arthur’s mobile.

“No, why would I be?” Arthur replied, tossing some dirty laundry in the hamper.

“Because it’s a Friday night and Uther’s on a business trip and you have the house to yourself.” There was a note of “duh” in Morgan’s voice.  “Invite some girls over! Have a wild party!”

“Morgan, I know about three girls here.  I don’t know enough people to have a party.  Anyway, there’s a house down the street that’s having a big party, so no way would anyone come to mine.”

“That’s even better!” Morgan’s shrill voice caused Arthur to wince and hold his mobile away from his ear.  “Go to the party!  Get smashed!  Have fun!”

“Were you not listening earlier?  I don’t know anyone here.”

“It’s a party Arthur, no one really cares if they know the people who show up.”

“I don’t really feel like going to a party.”

“Come on Arthur. Please go?”

Arthur frowned. “Why is this so important to you?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line.  “Because I think it’ll be good for you,” Morgan said finally.  Arthur had a sense that for some reason she wasn’t quite telling him the exact purpose but he didn’t push it.  “You need some rebellious fun.  When’s the last time you did anything interesting?  I can picture you right now.  You’re probably cleaning your room before going downstairs to watch TV, right?”

Arthur dropped the papers he’d been organizing on his bed guiltily.  “No.”

“Go to the party Arthur,” Morgan said firmly.  “Please? For me.”

“Fine.”

Two hours later, Arthur was being buffeted by a mass of strangers inside the party. He’d meant to agree to go just to placate Morgan but after organizing his room from top to bottom, finishing his homework for Monday, and considering if he should do some of his laundry, Arthur’d realized his life was pretty pathetic.  Morgan had a point, so he threw on a clean, red tee shirt, and headed off down the street.

Now that he was actually there though, Arthur decided that this was clearly a poor idea. There was no sign of Lance, Elliot, or Gwen or anyone else he knew and the pounding bass music was starting to hurt his ears.  Even the collection of alcohol he eventually found in the kitchen had been so picked over that there was nothing left except some very dubious looking punch.

Arthur was texted Elliot in a last ditch effort to see if his friends were somewhere in the house when someone called his name.

“Hey look it’s Arthur.”

Arthur looked up in surprise. Martin Emrys had emerged from the crowd and was weaving, figuratively and literally, towards Arthur. The dark haired boy was dressed entirely in black, complete with a studded leather bracelet and a chain necklace. His hair had been somewhat spiked with some sort of hair gel, leaving his blue eyes on display. And he was very clearly very drunk.

“Arthur,” Emrys slurred again, drawing out the final syllable.  “Just Arthur.  What’s your last name Arthur?”  He continued drawing out each ‘Arthur’.

“Penn,” Arthur answered warily.

“Arthur Penn.” Emrys laughed, a wild, uncontrolled sound.  “That’s so fucking posh.”

One of Emrys’s friends, Will something?, Arthur thought, who had followed Emrys out of the crowd laughed as well, before pushing past and leaving them behind.

Emrys pushed his way into Arthur’s space, staring into his face with an odd, manic gleam. Then he gave an almost feral grin that only widened when Arthur took a step back.

“Wanker. See you Penn,” Emrys turned and began following his friend, the drawn out n trailing behind him.

Arthur’s heart clenched inexplicably.  This had been the most he had ever spoken to Emrys since introducing himself and he had a back feeling about letting the boy go.

“Wait!” he called, trying to follow through the throng of people.

But Emrys only have him the two-fingered salute without looking back and disappeared.

Arthur lasted another ten minutes at the party, thanks only to an unopened bottle of beer he’d managed to find under the table.  He plopped down on a couch and sipped it, watching people in various states of drunkenness pass and feeling bored.  Finally, after establishing through text that none of his friends were there after all or were planning on coming, Arthur binned the empty bottle and heading out the door.

The front garden of the house was a pleasant change from the humid, deafening interior of the house. Arthur took a deep breath, savoring the calm.

Someone was vomiting in a hedge.  Letting out the breath, Arthur scowled.  So much for calm. For a moment he considered just going home, but guilt won out.  He should at least check if the poor sod was all right.

“Hey,” Arthur called as he approached the hedge.  “You ok?”

And of course, Arthur thought, because it was that kind of strange night, so of course the inebriated boy that rolled out of the hedge was Martin Emrys.

Emrys squinted up at Arthur. “I thought I told you to fuck off?”

“No, not tonight,” Arthur sighed, grabbing Emrys’s elbow and hauling him upright.  “At least not verbally.”

“Ow ow ow.” Emrys wrenched his arm away and nursed his elbow and without Arthur holding his arm, he swayed dangerously on his feet.

Arthur just managed to grab him and keep him from crashing headfirst into the hedge as Emrys bent over and began gagging and heaving again.

“Whatever,” Emrys rasped after a few dry retches.

He was slurring even worse than he had been in the house, but something more than that was off. Emrys seemed to be having trouble drawing breath, gasping and panting.  As Arthur watched, Emrys even began nodding off, his eyelid’s drooping.

“Hey, hey.” Arthur caught Emrys as he threatened to topple over again.

Someone opened the door to the house and light spilled out onto the lawn.  Arthur quickly gave Emrys a once over now he could properly see him.  Emrys didn’t look much better in the light.  He was sweating, his skin was even pale than normal, his chest was still heaving for breath, and, most unnerving, his pupils were tiny.  The pupils suddenly clicked with Emrys’s sensitive reaction to Arthur grabbing his arm.

“Holy shit, are you high?” Arthur asked.

“None...” Emrys’s voice trailed off as he spaced out for a moment.  “Of your business,” he finished, looking pleased for cobbling together a three-syllable word.

“It is when you’re about to pass out in the grass,” Arthur grumbled.  “Where are your friends?”

“Somewhere.” Emrys flapped his hand at the house. “Will saw a girl.”

“Ok.” Arthur sighed. He glared at the house, willing one of Emrys’s friends to appear, but when that failed he took a deep breath and made a decision.  “Ok, come on. Come with me.”

“No. Where are we going?” Emrys protested as Arthur began hauling him out of the yard and down the street.

“Bringing you to my house so you don’t choke on your own spit all alone,” Arthur replied. “Or would you rather spend the night in garden?”

“No,” Emrys conceded sulkily. He gave up his struggle and instead leaned most of his weight on Arthur, seemingly too tired to bother holding himself up.

“Jesus Christ, you’re heavier than you look,” Arthur grumbled.

Emrys scowled. “You’re the fat one.”

“I am not fat!”

“Tell yourself,” Emrys said haughtily.

It took Arthur’s brain a second to decode that.  “Did you mean ‘keep telling yourself that’?”

“That’s what I said.”

Taking deep calming breaths through his nose, Arthur finally managed to get them to his door. He could only thank his lucky stars, though they didn’t seemed to be doing much tonight, the lazy gits, that the party had been close.

“Ok, here we are.” Arthur deposited Emrys on the couch in the sitting room and flicked on the lights.

“Posh!” Emrys said, eyes wide as he took in his surroundings.  “I knew it. I knew you were posh.”

Arthur ignored this. “Just stay there a second and try not to pass out.”  He could only pray Emrys would do as he was told, but when he returned with a glass of water and an old blue tee-shirt, Emrys was still in the same place.  Being high as a kite and tired seemed to have an advantage for keeping Emrys still at least.

“Here” Arthur handed the water to Emrys.  “Don’t drink it all in one go.  And take off your shirt.”

Emrys, who had been very interested in the water, paused and raised his eyebrows then smiled, “Why?” he asked, drawing it out while leering and shooting Arthur an absolutely filthy look.

Arthur threw the shirt he’d brought downstairs at Emrys’s head.  “Because you’ve got sick on it.  Thought you might want a clean one.”

“Oh,” Retreating into a mixture of petulance and seeming disappointment, Emrys nonetheless did as he was told.  Arthur got a flash of very pale, scrawny chest as Emrys stripped off his shirt, Arthur's shirt was a bit too big on him but the blue made his eyes pop. For a moment, Emrys looked like a child, blinking his big eyes sleepily at Arthur as Arthur sat down in an armchair next to the couch.

Arthur tore his eyes away from Emrys and instead concentrated on his phone where he was looking up what to do what someone was high.

"What did you take?"

"Smack," answered Emrys breezily.

"Jesus," Arthur murmured under his breath. What was he suppose to do now? Most of huge websites were urging him to go to hospital in the case of an overdose. Arthur shot a glance at Emrys. How were you supposed to tell if it was an overdose?

"Do you know how much you took?"

Emrys shrugged.

Arthur bit his lip. "Maybe we should go to hospital."

"No!" Emrys shot bolt upright from where he'd been lazing back against the armrest. "No hospital. Please please, just no hospital. I'm fine. I'll be good. I won't do anything!" His eyes were bugging out of his head. With the tiny pupils, it was an unnerving look.

"Ok, ok." Arthur raised his hands in surrender. He could monitor Emrys and call an ambulance if his breathing or vomiting got worse Arthur decided.

Emrys settled back, placated, and closed his eyes.  "I just need sleep."

Arthur poked Emrys with his foot until the other boy roused himself enough to glare at him. "It says you're not supposed to sleep it off.  And if you're still nauseous, I'm going to keep you up to make sure you don't choke and die on your own sick."

Emrys wrinkled his nose. "That's gross. That's not a thing."

"It is," Arthur replied, leaning forward and grabbing the TV remote. "Didn't you ever pay attention to those drug lectures in school?"

"Yes," Emrys said sulkily. "Drugs bad, we're all gonna die, blah blah."

"Something like that. Look, we can watch TV for a while ok? What do you like to watch? I've got a footie match saved?"

But Emrys wrinkled his nose again and shook his head at every program Arthur tried, until finally, flipping around randomly, they landed on an old black and white Doctor Who episode.

"That's ok," Emrys said quietly. Arthur nodded and settled back to watch the episode.

After the third episode, Arthur started losing track of what was going on. Emrys had watched the program avidly, but he was drifting off as well. Satisfied that it had been long enough and the boy was not going to die suddenly, Arthur let him and even put a blanket on him when Emrys started shivering. Then Arthur settled down in his armchair to watch over Emrys, just in case.

 

Though he tried to stay awake, Arthur dozed fitfully. At one point he dreamed he was watching over Emrys who was shivering and sick on a small wooden cot in a cluttered stone room and feeling that he had to do anything he could to save him.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that what Arthur does is BAD. If you suspect someone is having a drug overdose you should take them to hospital right away. Merlin's fine in the end, but still, it's a bad idea not to get someone that high medical help.


	5. Remembering

The next morning Emrys was gone without a trace.  Arthur only sighed and stretched, trying to get rid of the crick in his back from sleeping in an armchair.  At school, Arthur tried to catch Emrys’s eye once or twice, but Emrys was resolutely ignoring Arthur and eventually Arthur gave up. 

Besides, Arthur had other things to contend with.  Uther returned from his business trip and had apparently decided now was the time to begin discussing what subject Arthur would study at university.  This lead to very tense dinners while Uther lectured on how studying business or economics would prepare Arthur for his later career and which universities had the best programs, while Arthur tried to get a word in edgewise or at the very least remind his father how much he hated maths.

At school, Arthur was also being distracted by Gwen, who was flirting with him more and more in her sweet, slightly awkward way. He felt a bit bad, because from the way Lance gazed at Gwen when he thought no one was looking, he obviously fancied her as well, but when Arthur asked a few subtle questions of an oblivious Elliot, Arthur found that Lance had never made any sort of move and Gwen wasn’t aware of his feelings.  It was still a bit of an awkward situation, but if Gwen preferred Arthur, Arthur felt he was within his rights to return the attention.

But the thing taking up the largest portion of Arthur’s worries were his dreams.  Contrary to his hopes, they had not faded. Instead, they seemed to be getting stronger, and certainly more regular.

Arthur wondered if he was going crazy.  There had to be something weird going on in his brain, but who could he ask?  Confessing to someone he was having constantly recurring dreams staring himself and a few people around him in some medieval fantasy drama sounded bizarre. 

Arthur considered telling Morgan about them, but he was too uncomfortable even to divulge the dreams to her.  He was usually not shy about sharing anything with her, she’d been eagerly pumping him for news about his new friends, and even particularly for news about Emrys for some reason after Arthur mentioned him once, but this was different. More strange.  What would she say if he just came out and said _“I’m having dreams every night in most of which where you’re a sadistic, psychopathic witch hell-bent on killing me.”_ Knowing Morgan, she would probably think it was a bit cool, but Arthur feared being told he really was going crazy or that he should seek help.

The dreams were coming every night now without fail and filling his head with the sound of swords and boots on stone and the smell of dust and sunlight and horses. He woke in the mornings, so deep in his dream world that he missed the weight of chainmail, half convinced before the details began to fade in the dawn light that the dreams were real.

Then suddenly they were.

 

 

_Arthur was dying.  He knew it for certain, even as Emrys dragged him across the field, unwilling to give up. He tried to tell him, “it’s too late”, but Emrys carried on, struggling with exhaustion to move them even an inch._

_“You can’t save my life.”_

_Everything was fading in and out.  Arthur clung on to what little consciousness he had left, nothing seeming real except Emrys’s arms around him._

_“I can.  I’m not going to lose you.”_

_Time was bending and folding around Arthur, like a movie that was jump cutting over while he tried to still make sense of it, even as his eyes became too heavy.  He struggled to get out the last few words he wanted, battling the oncoming flood of exhaustion and darkness, and Emrys’s own refusal._

_“I want to say something to you—”_

_He had to say it, he couldn’t die without telling him..._

_“—I’ve never said to you before.”_

_... how grateful he was, how he was nothing with out him, how much he meant..._

_“Thank you.”_

_And at last, Arthur could not hold back the flood any longer._

_“No! Stay with me!”_

_He slipped beneath the waves of black even as he could hear Emrys screaming. No, not Emrys, Merlin. Merlin._

_“Arthur!”_

_Then as the darkness consumed him completely, Arthur heard another voice, a woman’s, barely there, whisper in his ear._

_“It is time Arthur Pendragon.”_

Arthur sat bolt upright in bed.  His head pounded. An entirely new set of memories was suddenly surging into his mind.  Memories of castles and knights, memories of another life.  They rushed through Arthur’s memory in a jumbled mess.

Merlin, Camelot, Albion, magic, sorcerers, Merlin, Pendragon, the Round Table, _Merlin_.

Arthur felt winded, as if he had just run a mile and his hands were shaking. 

He was Arthur Pendragon. Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot. And at the same time, Arthur Penn, regular teenager of England.  It made no more sense to him than it had when the memories were just dreams. Arthur couldn’t decide if he was more of less scared now.

The sun was starting to peak through his windows by the time Arthur managed to fall into a fitful sleep again, no more convinced he was not going insane.

 

 

The next day at school was incredibly surreal.  Arthur felt like he was looking at everything with double vision, his new memories of life in Camelot superimposing themselves on the people around him.

Not Uther Penn, business consultant, but King Uther, ironfisted ruler.  Not Gwen, slightly awkward schoolgirl with a love of literature, but Guinevere, serving girl and eventual wise and loving queen and Arthur’s _wife._ Not Elliot and Lance, ordinary schoolmates, but Elyan and Lancelot, brave knights. 

Arthur found himself wandering through school in a daze and awkwardly attempting to be normal with his friends while trying not to stare at their familiar faces.

The person he knew he had to find was Emrys.  Merlin. If, by some slim chance, this was not all a figment of Arthur’s imagination, the boy who had been his best friend and a sorcerer would be the one to know what was going on.

After spending the entire day searching the halls, Arthur finally found him before the last class of the day, just as the halls were emptying.  The dark haired boy pushed past Arthur, not even seeing him, but Arthur grabbed his arm and spun Emrys to face him.

“What?” Emrys did not look pleased to see him.

“I—I have to talk to you about something.”  Arthur swallowed, inexplicably nervous and excited at the same time.

“Look, if you want thanks for that night, fine, thanks,” Emrys said, rolling his eyes. “I was fine on my own, but you did your good deed, helped the little junkie or whatever your told yourself in your posh, good boy head, so whatever.”  He adjusted his bag on his shoulder and started to turn away. 

Arthur panicked that Emrys would leave him and the hall was almost empty, so he didn’t stop himself from calling after the boy.

“Merlin!”

Emrys stopped and for a heart pounding moment, Arthur was sure it had registered, that Emrys was going to give him that big goofy grin that Arthur remembered and call him a name for not figuring it out sooner and say everything was going to be alright.

But then Emrys just raised an eyebrow and said coolly, “Like I told you before, my name’s Martin, and it’s Emrys to you.  We’re not mates now.”

And he left Arthur alone in the hallway, feeling as if his last lifeline had been cut.

 

 

By the time he got home, Arthur was well and truly convinced he had gone crazy and had a splitting headache. Said headache did not improve when he received a very perky text from Morgan.

**Got a sec for me to call?  Exciting news!!!!!!**

**Not now.**  Arthur typed back.  **Shit day.**

His mobile buzzed again a second later.  **Please?**

**No.**

**Pretty please?  This will brighten your day I swear!!!**

**Go away.**

No sooner had Arthur abandoned his mobile on his desk than it suddenly began the air raid siren noise that was Morgan’s ringtone.

In a fit of frustration, Arthur grabbed the mobile and hit the answer button, the words out of his mouth before he had a chance to fully think about them.

“I swear to god Morgana—”

“What did you just call me?”

There was dead silence on both ends as Arthur reviewed what he’d said.  _Shit._

“Sorry,” he tried to cover. “I just misspoke, today’s been—”

“You called me Morgana,” Morgan said very softly and Arthur trailed off.  His heart rate started to pick up as there was another long pause.

“Arthur,” Morgan asked, still soft, like she was scared what he might say, “do you... do you remember?”

Arthur’s breath caught in his throat.  “Yes,” he whispered.

“Oh my god. Oh my god.  Oh my god oh my god,” Morgan was murmuring over and over to herself.  “You remember. You remember Camelot?”

“Yes.” Relief suddenly whooshed through Arthur.  “I remember Camelot and the knights and the battles and everything.  You do too, Morgan?  Morgana? Do I still call you Morgan?”

“You can call me whatever the hell you like.”  Morgana, Arthur decided, calling her Morgan had always seemed off somehow, though he only now realized why, was laughing weakly.  “I can’t believe this.  It’s been so long, I thought maybe no one else would ever remember.  Or that maybe it was just all in my head.”

Arthur couldn’t stop his own smile from forming.  “I thought I was going crazy.”

“Oh you’re not crazy, Arthur,” Morgan said.  “But that doesn’t make this situation any less insane.”


	6. Unexpected Developements

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for a long delay, but events are really getting going now and they took a while to write. This is a big chapter though, in both plot and size, so I hope that makes up for it. :)
> 
> The explicit content starts here. Warning for some slightly dubious consent, as uncomfortable as that makes me to write, but the character does say yes. There are just still some reservations. Also, there is sexual activity between characters who are about 16ish for those of you who are bothered by that.

The rest of Arthur’s conversation with Morgana went something like this.

“When did you first remember?”

“I was eleven.”

Arthur’s mouth fell open. Being on his own with no clue of what was going on for a day had been hell.  He could only imagine what it would be like to be that way for years. “Shit.  That’s long time.  I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok. It wasn’t your fault.” Morgana’s tone was breezy. “I tried to jog your memory a few times, but you were oblivious.  I would have just completely freaked and decided I was crazy if it wasn’t for the visions.”

“Visions?”

“I have prophetic dreams at night sometimes.  Like I dreamt that this move would bring you to Merlin and Gwen and stuff.”

“So you can...” Arthur swallowed, not sure if he really wanted to know the answer to the question on his mind.  “...you can still do magic?”

“No, just the visions. Maybe someday. That’s how my magic started in Camelot too, so maybe I’ll grow into my powers.”

“Jesus.” Arthur shook his head, trying to collect his thoughts.  “How did Gwen, Lancelot, Elyan, and Merlin all end up here?”

“No idea. There’s really no way to figure it out and far as I can tell, there’s no rhyme or reason.  Our lives have been peppered with people from the past.”

“Really? Like who else? Dad I know, but— holy shit. Your mom.  Is your mom...”

“Morgause? My half-sister in another life? Yep.  You can see how weird this is.  And do you remember one of you best mates from primary school?”

“What, Leo? Oh my god!  That was Leon wasn’t it!  You kissed him at my ninth birthday party!”

“Yes I did.” Morgana sounded quite pleased with that fact.  “See I think we’re all just drawn to each other.  But sometimes I see a familiar passing face and I can’t tell if it’s just a trick of the mind or if I knew them once.  Anyway, this all will be much easier to figure out now that I have people to talk to about it. I knew as soon as you got in contact with Merlin you’d remember.  He’s the one who’ll really probably be able to explain it and—”

There was a sinking feeling in Arthur’s stomach as he cut Morgana off.  “Morgana, there’s just one problem with that.”

“What?”

“Merlin doesn’t remember.”

There was a long silence.

“You’re joking.”

“No. I tried to talk to him yesterday, called him Merlin and everything, but he just blew me off.”

There was another long pause. “Fuck.  Merlin and his power was our best chance. Without him we’ve got nothing.”

“Is Merlin really that powerful? Gaius said something about that but I didn’t really believe him.”

“I know, it’s strange isn’t it?  I freaked when I found out. But it’s true. Damn, Gaius knew? Of course.”  Morgana’s voice took on a note of bitterness with the last statement, but it disappeared quickly.  “I don’t suppose you’ve seen Gaius around?  He could be helpful.”

“No, sorry.”

“Ok,” Morgana sighed.

Now that they had sorted through their crazy new situation, Arthur remembered that Morgana had called for a reason.  “What were you calling to talk about anyway?”

“Oh! Mom wants to go with her boyfriend somewhere sunny for Christmas, so she’s going to talk to Uther about me staying with you guys for the holiday.”

“That’s great!” Arthur smiled. He couldn’t deny he missed having his stepsister around, if only to make the house seem a little less lonely. “It’ll be nice to have you around.”

There was a beat.

“Um Arthur?”

“Yeah?”

Morgana’s voice was softer, more timid.  “Are we ok?”

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Well, before—I mean, in Camelot... I—I was kind of...”

Arthur swallowed while Morgana trailed off.  If he was honest, he’d been trying to ignore those memories.  He didn’t want to lose the person he was closest too, the only person who shared what was going on, to the memories of their past war. Even if the memory of Morgana standing over him ready to kill him haunted Arthur. 

“It’s ok Morgana,” Arthur said, more calmly than he felt.  “That’s all over now.  We’ve got enough issues in the present.”

“Ok.” Morgana sounded relieved.

“So what now?”

“Honestly? I have no idea.”

 

 

The best advice Morgana had been able to offer was continue on as usual and let things unfold. If possible, get close to Merlin and try to jog his memory.  Arthur was finding that both those tasks were easier said than done.

While it was a bit strange to be in school when he had memories of being an adult, Arthur still felt like a teenager at heart.  And Arthur of Camelot had never had to bother with maths or university or getting a job, so the modern Arthur still had to muddle through school the same as always. Even if he was pretty sure he still knew how to pick up a sword and lead an army into battle.

By vehemently ignoring his past memories, Arthur managed to be only somewhat awkward with his friends. Elliot was easy to get along with, the banter and comradeship from being knights together had not been too different from their current friendship.  Being friends with Lance was trickier.  Arthur found himself pulled in three directions: on one hand, he wanted to be mates and brothers in arms as they once had been; on the other, Arthur couldn’t help remembering the last time he had seen Lance before dying himself, Lance had been kissing Arthur’s wife; and then Arthur kept reminding himself that it was all stupid, and Arthur should just chuck the memories because Lance didn’t even remember being a knight or having an affair with Guinevere. Although, sometimes Arthur caught Lance looking at Gwen and wondered...

Arthur’s fledgling with Gwen however, was an absolute mess.  What Arthur had thought of as a possible shag or a few casual dates was suddenly something a lot higher stakes.  He still couldn’t wrap his mind around that this girl was supposed to be his wife. And it made him want to turn tail and run. The deep love he’d had for Guinevere should have come rushing back for Gwen with the memories, right? Or maybe they just had to regrow?

And then there was Merlin. After some deliberation, Arthur had decided that as long as they didn’t remember, he was continue calling Lance and Elliot by their new names in his head.  But Merlin was Merlin.  Arthur couldn’t teach himself any different.  And he knew that he’d gone through many years in this life without the other boy, but it was astonishing how much he now felt his absence.  Arthur seemed to have developed Merlin sensors. He would catch every glimpse of Merlin slouching around school in his disheveled uniform. A few times Merlin caught Arthur looking, and Arthur would attempt a nod or a slight wave, but Merlin would just roll his eyes and ignore it.  And Arthur in turn would ignore the slight pang it gave him.  Really, if Morgana thought he could get close to Merlin, something drastic and possibly miraculous was going to have to happen.

 

 

Ping, ping.

Arthur paused, mid-word on his homework, trying to figure out where the noise was coming from.

Disbelieving, Arthur turned towards the darkened window.  Someone was throwing stones at his window.  And just when he thought his life couldn’t get any more bizarre.

Ping, ping, ping.

Arthur sighed and got up from his desk.  He opened the window and had to lean way out before he could spot who it was.

And Arthur abruptly revised his earlier thought.  No, having _Merlin_ standing outside throwing stones at his window was the new height of bizarreness in Arthur’s life.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Arthur hissed down at the other boy.  He was wearing the same ratty grey hoodie Arthur’d first seen him in and a dark blue beanie and scuffing his trainers in the grass. “And how did you even know this was my window?”

“Lucky guess,” Merlin called back, a little too loudly for Arthur’s liking.  After a beat he added, “So are you going to let me in?”

“Fucking hell. Wait there.”

Uther didn’t seem to have noticed anything and Arthur prayed that wouldn’t change as he hurried downstairs to the back door.  Merlin looked decidedly unconcerned as Arthur let him in and resumed hissing at him.

“What are you doing here?”

Merlin surveyed the very sparsely furnished wall, completely at ease.  “I was bored.  Needed a place to crash.”

Any small hope Arthur had had that Merlin had suddenly regained his memories evaporated. Along with his patience.

“What the hell Merlin? You can’t just show up at my house in the middle of the night!”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Seriously?  Martin, Penn.  I think you need your brain checked.  And why not? You were the one who brought be here a couple weeks ago.”

“That wasn’t an open invitation!” Arthur whispered frantically.  “And definitely not when my dad is home!”

Merlin’s gaze snapped back to Arthur and a wicked grin spread across his face. “That’s it, is it?” he said, raising an eyebrow.  “Don’t want Daddy to disapprove of you bringing home a bad boy?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Arthur shoved Merlin up the stairs. At least Merlin’s snickers were soft enough that Uther didn’t come storming out of his office, they reached Arthur’s room safely.

Arthur shut the door quietly and resisted the urge to slump against it.

“Wow, I remembered right.” Merlin whistled softly. “Super fucking posh. Your room’s as big as my whole shitty flat.”

“And why aren’t you at your flat now?” Arthur sighed.

“Didn’t feel like it, Mum’s being annoying, neighbors are too loud.”  Merlin wandered around, examining a few of Arthur’s pictures on his bookshelf.  “Take your pick.”

There was a beat of silence while Merlin picked up a framed photo of an eight year old Arthur in a football jersey.

“So,” Merlin set down the picture.  “Got any food in your posh house?”

Arthur raised his eyebrows. “Not here.  It’s in the kitchen.”

“Great.” Merlin made for the door, but Arthur jumped in his way.

“No, no, no,” he said, hands out.  “You are going to stay here and you are going to be very quiet and I’ll get you something.”

Merlin rolled his eyes again but backed off and didn’t argue.

“Oh and don’t touch anything!” Arthur hissed as he eased open the door.

“Yes _sire_ ,” Merlin said with such familiar sarcasm that Arthur did a double take.  But Merlin didn’t seem to notice he’d said anything odd as he peered out Arthur’s window, fiddling with the curtains.

Sighing, Arthur headed back down the stairs.  In the kitchen, he pulled together a few supplies and started making sandwiches.

“Arthur?”

It was Uther. Arthur jumped, just managing not to drop the butter knife he was holding.

“What are you doing.”

“Just...” Arthur waved his butter knife in what he hoped was a casual gesture, “making a snack.”

Uther nodded, already turning away.  “Make sure you don’t waste too much time before going back to your studies.”

“Yes Father,” Arthur called to his father’s back.  “Good night.”

When Arthur returned to his room, Merlin was sitting on his bed, thumbing through one of Arthur’s books.

“I thought I told you not to touch anything,” Arthur said as he placed the plate with its sandwiches down on his desk.

Merlin ignored his comment. “Roald Dahl?  Really?  Not exactly the reading material I expected.”

“My sister and I used to read them together.”  Arthur picked up one of the sandwiches and took a bite.  “Kept them for nostalgia.”

“Which was your favorite?”

Arthur hummed for a second as he thought.  “The Witches. Creepy too though.”

Merlin gave an odd little flinch and abandoned the book on the bed.  “I went for Charlie and the Chocolate Factory,” he said breezily as he went over to the desk and picked up one of the remaining two sandwiches. “I always wanted my own candy factory.”

“Who doesn’t?” Arthur chuckled.  He grabbed his history textbook and collapsed on his bed, his back propped up against the headboard.  Merlin seemed content to focus on his sandwich at the desk, twirling absently in the desk chair as he ate, so Arthur relaxed enough to ignore him for a bit. He wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to say next anyway.

Arthur was halfway through the assigned chapter when he was startled by a sudden very near presence. He looked up and promptly dropped his book in surprise.

Merlin had finished eating and had moved to Arthur’s side.  He didn’t stop there though.  While Arthur watched with his mouth hanging open, Merlin climbed onto the bed, straddling Arthur, one knee on either side of his body.

“Wha—what,” Arthur stammered, “what’s going on?”

A slow, absolutely indecent grin spread across Merlin’s face.  “You tell me,” he said. 

“I—what?”

Merlin’s grin never faltered at he raised his eyebrows.  “You’ve been watching me.”  He leaned forward and rolled his hips.  Arthur swallowed thickly. “I see you.  You can’t keep your eyes off me.”

Arthur opened and shut his mouth without making any sound.  Whatever words he was trying to say, “get off me you maniac”, “what the hell?”, and “holy fuck, do that again”, were escaping him.  He took back anything he might have thought earlier in the night. This was by far the most bizarre thing to happen in his life.

Merlin sighed and sat back on Arthur’s thighs.  “You know, if you need a hand coming up with ideas, I have some inspiration.” He fiddled with something in his hoodie pocket.  “I found this in your bedside table.”

All the blood that had not been making its way south suddenly rushed to Arthur’s cheeks as Merlin pulled Arthur’s own half used tube of lube out of his pocket.

“You got any condoms?” Merlin asked breezily, tapping the tube against his palm.

Arthur stared at it as he shook his head slowly.  The lube had been for himself and his own wanking.  It had never been used on another _guy._ There had been that one time at a previous school when he and a friend had gotten each other off with nervously shaking hands after football practice and once a sloppy, drunken blowjob at a party from a different boy.  But besides those, Arthur had gained all of his, not insignificant, sexual experience from girls.

“Ah no matter,” continued Merlin, seemingly oblivious to the sheen of sweat that had broken out on Arthur’s forehead.  Or maybe he just took if for arousal.  “We’ll just have to do it the simple way then.”

And, without warning or a hint of embarrassment, Merlin reached forward and palmed Arthur’s groin.

Arthur gasped and arched up into Merlin’s touch.  A string of increasingly creative expletives was running through his head.  What the hell was going on?!  This was _Merlin._ This was wrong in so many ways, Arthur’s brain could hardly even begin to form a response, while Merlin continued to knead him teasingly.

After a few seconds of nothing but Arthur panting and trying not to hyperventilate, Merlin paused.

“You can say no, you know,” he said matter-of-factly.  He hadn’t moved his hand though.  “Just say no or whatever.”

Yes, Arthur remembered those “just say no” talks in school, though he was pretty sure that this particular scenario had not been covered.  _What do you say when your best friend from a past life suddenly starts trying to seduce you and it’s working?_ And that was the most unnerving part.  It _was_ working.  A very specific part of Arthur was suddenly _very_ interested in Merlin continuing.  Arthur attributed that to not having had sex in a while because the other explanation was definitely one he didn’t want to consider right now.

Arthur breathed heavily through his nose a few times, trying to think through his shock and arousal. He was sure this was somehow taking advantage of a Merlin who didn’t remember him, but, well, Morgana had said try to get close to this Merlin and Arthur didn’t want to drive him away. And a particular piece of anatomy really, really wanted Merlin to keep going.

“It’s... ok,” he finally said.

Merlin’s wide and wicked grin was immediate.  In a few seconds, he had efficiently popped the cap on the lube, squirted a little into his hand, and freed Arthur’s cock from his trousers. 

Arthur hissed at the first stroke and closed his eyes.  God it felt good.  He forcibly shut down the part of his brain screaming that this was Merlin and focused only on the sensation of long, teasing fingers on his cock.  They seemed to know exactly how much pressure to use and he got lost in the burning rhythm of each stroke.

“Are you just going to lie there?”  Merlin’s voice was hoarse and nowhere near as breezy as it had been when he’d started.

Without stopping to think twice, Arthur opened his eyes and reached for Merlin’s belt, undoing it and freeing Merlin’s cock, already hard and waiting.  Arthur’s fog of lust faded a bit at the sudden reminder who’s cock he had in his hand, but when his first tentative stroke caused Merlin to throw his head back in pleasure, it returned in full force.

The lube was somewhere on the bed, but Arthur couldn’t be bothered to find it and Merlin didn’t seem to mind. All the Arthur was aware of was the sight of Merlin’s pale neck arched back and the feeling of the other boy stroking his cock and the pressure building.  The pleasure spiraled higher and higher in time with each strokes and the small rocking motions of Merlin’s hips that were accompanied by little gasps and pants, until Arthur had to bite his lip to keep from crying out as he came.

His orgasm left him so blissed out that he wasn’t aware of Merlin finishing as well, but he must have because the nest thing Arthur knew, his hand was very sticky, as well the front of his shirt, and Merlin was rolling off him with a groan. They both lay together side by side on the bed for a moment, panting. 

A few thoughts, mostly along the lines of “oh shit” and “holy fuck” filtered together. Arthur only let the most uncomplicated thought out of his mouth though.

“Did you have to come on my shirt?”

Merlin huffed out a laugh. “Don’t be so bloody nitpicky, Penn.”

Arthur tilted to look at Merlin’s profile.  His eyes really were very blue this close.  “Arthur,” he said softly.

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Fine.  Arthur.”  He pushed himself up and off the bed.  Arthur noticed Merlin’s shirt was speckled as well.  Merlin must have noticed as well, because he zipped up his hoodie, effectively hiding the spots.  He meandered over to Arthur’s desk and picked up the final remaining sandwich.

After a moment of silence in which Arthur stared at the ceiling, Merlin asked, “So am I stuck here?” he waved a hand.  His mouth was still full of food as he talked.  “For fear of your dad?  Or can I leave?”

Arthur shook himself. “Oh.  Yeah, um.”  He carefully opened his door and peered down the hall.  His father’s bedroom door was shut.  He gestured for Merlin to follow.  “Come on.” 

Merlin followed him without comment or sound, for which Arthur was grateful.  It was only when they reached the back door that Merlin turned to Arthur and flashed him his cheeky grin again.

“Well, thanks for the sandwiches.”  Merlin’s gaze flicked up and down Arthur’s body, including his still semen splattered shirt, suggestively. “And everything.”

Arthur flushed. They both dawdled there for a moment. Arthur had a sudden absurd feeling as if this were the end of a date.  Albeit, a strange, very backward date.

Merlin finally broke the awkwardness by giving him a nod and opening the door. Arthur sighed and watched him start to make his way down the back path.

“Goodnight Merlin,” Arthur said dryly.  He’d forgotten again not to call Merlin that, but Merlin didn’t comment on the name, only rolled his eyes at Arthur over his shoulder.

Once Merlin was out of sight, Arthur shut the door softly and slumped against it rubbing his face with his hands.  _Bloody hell_ , he thought tiredly. _What had just happened?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate writing hand-jobs. I apologize if this one was shit. There will be more explicit stuff coming that hopefully I'll write better. And if anyone wants to help me out or give me tips I would be happy for advice!
> 
> As always, please, please review! Reviews make the chapters come faster!


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